


and still i will live here

by notquiteaghost



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Podfic Available, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, geralt: i'm breaking up with you / jaskier: no you're not, the mortifying ordeal of being known by a very stubborn bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: “If life could give me one blessing,” Geralt snarls, “it would be to take you off my hands.”And, really, Jaskier isn’t an idiot. Was standing just here, unwilling audience to Yennefer taking out her own grief on the nearest target, and while he’s long run out of patience for playing mediator to that disaster, he isn’t going to sit by and let Geralt cope with one of his loves pushing him away by taking the initiative and pushing the other away first.Honestly, thenerveof it! He can’t hold it against him, he knows, but asifhe would ever willingly leave. It’s beentwenty years, what would he evendo.
Relationships: Background Geralt/Yennefer, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 79
Kudos: 1743





	and still i will live here

**Author's Note:**

> i am an absolute sucker for all the reconciliation fic, but i also think one of the most romantic things possible is knowing your partner well enough to catch them mid-relationship-sabotage and say ‘no. no, i won’t let you’, and twenty years is a LONG time. jaskier is definitely wise to geralt’s bullshit by then.
> 
> title, of course, from mitski’s i will.

Jaskier isn’t an _idiot_. He knows Geralt knows that — has, on multiple occasions, forced Geralt to admit he is, actually, capable and useful and, even, in some respects, smarter than Geralt.

See: if Jaskier lashed out in anger at Geralt, the fool, the mess of self-loathing and abandonment issues held together by scar tissue and tight leather, he would take Jaskier at face value, without question. Would swallow once, nod tightly, and leave, and do his best to avoid Jaskier until his dying day. That’s why, when Jaskier is filled with broiling anger and bitter hurt, he slips off by himself and gets absolutely shitfaced, or picks a fight, or buys cheap crockery he then hurls at trees until it’s dust.

Because Jaskier is the one with people skills.

So, yes, they’ve had a very shitty few days. No Roach, an extended amount of forced interaction with armed strangers, Yennefer, apparent innocents apparently dying in ways Geralt can blame himself for — really, Jaskier would be hard pressed to think of a series of events possible of winding Geralt up any worse.

He had thought, naively, that they would at least get back down the damned mountain before he had to wind Geralt down again. As if Yennefer of thrice-damned Vengerberg can ever walk away from a situation without having burnt the whole of it to the ground, and salted that and all.

“If life could give me one blessing,” Geralt snarls, “it would be to take you off my hands.”

And, really, Jaskier isn’t an idiot. Was standing just here, unwilling audience to Yennefer taking out her own grief on the nearest target, and while he’s long run out of patience for playing mediator to that disaster, he isn’t going to sit by and let Geralt cope with one of his loves pushing him away by taking the initiative and pushing the other away first.

Honestly, the _nerve_ of it! He can’t hold it against him, he knows, but as _if_ he would ever willingly leave. It’s been _twenty years_ , what would he even _do_.

Geralt, though, is in no state for sharp reminders of which of them gets to call the shots about the state of their relationship and which of them once nearly lost a leg to his stubborn determination he was better off alone. Anger is coming off Geralt in palpable waves.

Jaskier, then, nods. Says, “Right. I’ll just go back to camp, then, if that’s how it is”, and then does. Walks away, packs up their things, and figures the time it will take to get back to Roach will be long enough for Geralt to cool off and remember he has all the people skills of a rotten turnip, and Jaskier has saved his life at _least_ four times, and is also the only person in the entire Continent willing to sleep with a man actively bleeding from multiple wounds.

Jaskier lost the argument about waiting until Geralt’s gaping gashes had at least scabbed over before they fuck, and he’ll be damned if he loses this one, too.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Geralt makes it back to Roach, Jaskier is sat on the ground at her feet, sharpening a dagger and humming to himself as if Geralt had only been gone an hour to hunt their dinner.

Geralt stops short. Runs back through the journey, the fight, tries to work out when Yenn started to fuck with his head. As she left? Before? He knew he shouldn’t have stayed in her bed— 

“Not the best start to an apology,” Jaskier calls, one eyebrow raised. “Not that I was expecting much, mind, but really, Geralt, I’m not one of the witch’s _tricks_. Do you truly think so little of me?”

Geralt has absolutely no idea what’s happening.

Jaskier lets out a sigh, heavy and put-upon, and gets to his feet, closes the distance between them. The expression on his face lends no credence to him not being one of Yennefer’s tricks.

“How long have we known each other?” He asks, and doesn’t give Geralt space to answer. This is a lecture — Geralt’s input isn’t often required. “How many times, now, have I sewn you back together? How many evenings have I passed up women, men, and coin to spend in your bed? How long has it been since I spent a night away from you?”

He does pause, then, and with meaning. Geralt still doesn’t speak. His throat is caught.

“If you’re truly sick of my company,” Jaskier continues, tone softening, face softening, “then tell me to go, and I will. But not when whatever tear in you Yennefer’s carved this time is still bleeding.” Fuck. “Because I know you, you fool of a Witcher, and I believe I’ve made my stance on your self-sabotaging tendencies very clear.”

 _Fuck_.

The ways Yennefer cuts him, Geralt knows to expect. But, _fuck,_ Jaskier slicing him open always catches him offguard. He’s so _gentle_. Geralt _aches_.

This isn’t a trick.

This would be far easier, if it were a trick.

“There you are,” Jaskier says, soft. Fond. He steps yet closer, brings a hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind Geralt’s ear, cups his jaw. Geralt has no hope of holding back his shudder. “You really think you could be rid of me that easy?”

Geralt bites his tongue. Nothing he can think of to say would do anything but insult Jaskier’s intelligence, or give Jaskier cause to slap him. He leans forward, instead, to press their foreheads together. Brings his own hand up to rest on Jaskier’s chest, over his heart. Closes his eyes.

“I do still expect an apology, you know.”

The words fall from Geralt’s mouth with an ease directly proportional to the ease Jaskier let him in his space. “I’m sorry.”

“And…?”

His throat catches again. No matter how well Jaskier can play the strings of him, the words he demands always stick. “I shouldn’t— I was— I won’t. Do it. Again.”

Jaskier huffs, and presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m not asking for promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.” Damn it, he should never have fallen in bed with a wordsmith. Jaskier wields endearments like weapons, and the noise Geralt makes is as if he was stabbed. Another kiss, Geralt can’t _bear it_ — “Darling, darling, it’s okay. I have you, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Distantly, Geralt is aware of them sinking to the floor. Of Jaskier gathering Geralt close to his chest, closest, tucking his face to the curve of his neck, running a hand over Geralt’s back. Geralt’s chest is tight, his throat is tight, his eyes sting. He’s shaking and he can’t stop, and Jaskier smells of his expensive oils, of home, and Jaskier sings, _I will take good care of you, I will take good care of you._

Eventually, Geralt pulls away. Wipes his face. Casts about for his dignity.

Sees the look on Jaskier’s face. Tries not to immediately fall to pieces again.

“Not to lord it over you,” Jaskier says, voice still so fucking soft, “but we could’ve done that days ago, and travelled back here together. I had to catch my own food, you know.”

Geralt makes a noise. A grunt with the harshness sanded off.

“And, to be clear, if you ever say anything like that to me again, I _will_ stab you.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean it. I’ll use your sword, and I know where all your scar tissue isn’t.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier huffs. “And, next time I see Yennefer, I will likely need you to stop me doing something foolish.”

“You won’t stab _Yenn_ —”

“No, I won’t, because she’s the most powerful mage on the Continent, and you’ve already got a monopoly on recklessly baiting her.”

Geralt harrumphs. Jaskier just _laughs_ , the bastard. Why does Geralt like him.

Jaskier slides a hand into his hair and, finally, kisses him. Geralt fists a hand into his shirt and pretends all the tension in him hasn’t instantly melted.

They’re a long way off, now, the rumours of a job Geralt was planning on chasing up next. Low on supplies, too, but he’s barely begun to run through what he knows of nearby towns before Jaskier makes an aggrieved noise and moves his mouth away just long enough to say, “Planning later. Kissing now.” And, well, the brief journey alone wasn’t the best. And Jaskier tastes so sweet.

He hums, to hear Jaskier gasp, and begins to work at Jaskier’s shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics jaskier sings, of course, also from mitski's i will. not to imply that in-universe jaskier wrote a mitski song about geralt but yes actually exactly to imply that.
> 
> i am [here](http://notquiteaghost.tumblr.com) on tumblr

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] and still i will live here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602723) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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